by Zeke
The door to the dojo was half open. I knocked and walked in. The floor of the 25 x 25 room was covered with mats. The walls all around were also padded including a half wall separating the small reception area from the fighting area. Pictures and certificates covered the wall to my left. As I cleared the door I looked to the right. Joanna rose from a seat behind the counter. Smiling a welcome, she quickly excused herself and went out to feed a meter on the street. Apparently she hadn't been that sure I'd show.
And could you blame her? She's a champion with vast experience in a number of fighting areas. I'm a non-contact sport athlete - ok hockey is a heavy contact sport but when I played it my objective was to avoid contact so I could score lots of goals and that was years ago. Now I play relatively non-contact basketball and definitely non-contact tennis. Why would she expect me to show up for a match? And pay money to get my butt kicked? I'm sure she's long given up pondering the craziness of male intergender wrestler wannabes.
I'm 52, 5'9", 150 lbs with wiry strength and less than 10% body fat, but my wrestling experience consists of matches with Josephine, Malibu and Ziggy. Josephine and Ziggy were smaller but had little trouble pinning me multiple times in the hour plus they each allotted for me. Too fast; too flexible, and too skilled. Malibu was a little bigger than me with deadly legs but much more of a fun, recreational wrestler - at least with me. We had a reasonably even match.
Joanna probably had 25 lbs on me, most of the difference from the waist on down. My tightly muscled legs looked like bumpy toothpicks in comparison to hers. And I have no thighs or hips to serve as a source of power. Joanna appeared to be turbo charged.
I liked her immediately. She was cordial, casual and nonthreatening - though with the obvious strength from finger tips to toes I would have paid up and left if she'd growled and told me to. We chatted as we stripped to shorts (me) and a one piece swimsuit (her). Physically she matched her pictures but her natural smile was more attractive than the posed shots. As we dropped to face each other on our knees, her eyes twinkled with anticipation. Thrill of combat or thrill of having a toy to play with, I wondered. She remembered we'd agreed to start on knees but had forgotten it was pins to admission of helplessness rather than submission. It disappointed her.
"I finally get to wrestle someone the perfect size for my submission holds and you won't let me use them. Most guys who come in are over 180. I had a guy in once that weighed 340. Nearly died when he walked through the door."
I asked why she hadn't seemed overly concerned when I walked in. Laughter.
But I know what I want and it ain't pain. The feeling of power when holding a struggling opponent helpless beneath you until the struggling ends or the feeling of freedom when you realize you are helpless beneath your opponent, further struggling is useless, you can only give in to the power above you. And there is no shame either way, just joy in the struggle.
We locked up, pulling, pushing, feinting, trying all the tricks to gain leverage and start the momentum which could lead quickly or slowly, but inevitably, to a pin. She made regular eye contact, more than the others I'd wrestled. Little laughs. She smiled and laughed for the next hour.
The falls followed a consistent pattern. I'd use speed, quickness, reasonably equal upper body strength, the knowledge I'd gained from Ziggy and Josephine, and the experience from going against a similar sized Malibu to gain an advantageous position. OK. Maybe Joanna played with me a little and let me gain an advantageous position, but I paid my money so I have the right to my own interpretation.
Most often the advantage was extremely slight. She'd be on hands and knees, legs well spread to provide a powerful base. I'd try turn her with a half nelson, catch her far arm under her body and pull it towards me, or quickly release her and take advantage of her momentum to pull her back towards me. She'd mostly ride out the moves, either enjoying the struggle or the ease with which she thwarted my efforts. Eventually I'd get a shoulder turned and flip around her trying to get it parallel to the mat. At some point I'd get a bit overbalanced and with a burst of raw power she'd have me on my back. I'd have a half second to roll or twist before whichever of her body parts was closest crushed down on my chest or over my face. At that point if I hadn't been able to avoid getting flattened I was going to stay flattened.
The struggles were fun but doomed to failure. I was pinned with arms stretched over my head, with my face mashed in her breasts, her belly and her crotch, with her cheek pressed against mine. My absolute favorites are always those where the position is such that I can look at her face whether directly into her eyes or a side view that gives a more complete facial expression. It's only then that you see how completely you're being dominated and how much she's enjoying it. Of course once you've verified that, you can still imagine her expressions as she's grinding the body part of the moment into your nose.
Joanna seemed to enjoy rubbing it in, so to speak. With a straight full or cross body press she'd give me staccotto bursts of weight bouncing, leaving me even more drained than the steady pressure. She was never quick to pull off a pin or ask me if I gave up, letting me decide when I'd had enough. Occasionally she'd shift from one pin to another if I hadn't given up, usually to something more erotic or dominating depending on your perspective. To me it's erotic in pictures, dominating in reality, at least as long as you're resisting.
She also liked to talk.
"If you're going to try move me from there, you'd better bring a friend." As I toyed with the idea of trying to grab a leg and roll her.
"Use both legs. You're still not going anywhere." As I tried to push off from the wall to gain leverage.
"Got to stay out of the way of those spider legs." As I tried to catch her in a scissors for control purposes.
"Hop on. It'll be a quick ride." As in a moment of insanity I thought of mounting her back with the intention of breaking her down.
"Thank you" As I made an egregious error handing her an open route to my destruction.
But I don't want to leave the impression this was hopelessly one sided. The first two falls took over ten minutes each, with me in control (?) most of the time and occasionally with a realistic opportunity of gaining a pin. The others were faster but only one was an embarassment as I moved directly into the hold she wanted and was helpless inside of ten seconds.
I legimately won a fall with my left arm under her head holding her opposite shoulder, my chest flattening her right breast, my right leg tight against hers, my left spread wide for balance, and my cheek pressing just above her left breast. It was the position I was close to many times but was only able to apply properly once. I also spent a good deal of time controlling her with my head on her belly or side, my legs spread over or on her head, sometimes in a light scissors. This was a copy of one of her best pinning positions except I lacked the weight in my hips and thighs to force the fall. I couldn't see any signs that she was smiling less or laughing less when she was losing than when she was winning. But I didn't get to observe much losing.
The only pinning hold she applied that I was able to escape was the face sit. She had no difficulty working me into it and I had no problem staying there except that I only enjoy pins if I can't escape them. Since the escape was immediate, I pretty much gave up the idea that anyone close to my size will be able to force me into a face sit submission. I can't imagine who I could face that would be better. Of course, if I'd allowed her to apply a head scissors and turn on the pressure she could have knocked me out and done whatever she wanted but she was unable to do that. Not that I physically prevented her - I simply made it against the rules.
Things you should know about Joanna if you are thinking about wrestling her.
She likes drag racing and horseback riding. She'd like to start playing tennis again but is afraid to play me. She will end matches quickly if anyone starts fighting dirty (she said it's only happened once).
She hates guys that think they have to try to impress her (no danger from me here).
She's a world class fighter.
She's planning to try the professional women's wrestling group being formed as a spin off from the WWF (what a waste of talent because we provide no other outlet for wrestlers - men or women). She's such a pro I could never tell how hard she was trying. All I could verify is that the sweat was real. Nothing phony, nothing pretentious, her class comes from within.
Mind your manners and you'll have a great time.